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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30061365">Corps-à-corps</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfields/pseuds/Wolfields'>Wolfields</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Dancing, Drinking Games, F/F, Fencing, Fencing!Au, Fleurmione Week 2021, I mean, Jealousy, a crush is revealed, sports gays am i right, there's only one bed, trying to reach each other, two gays trying to stab each other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:22:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30061365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfields/pseuds/Wolfields</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quick and meticulous. A secular sport. A national pride. Fleur has been fencing for so long that some competitors are old friends telling you ‘what’s going on’ over a quick stabbing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fleurmione Week 2021.1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello my fellows, my humans, my galaxy beings!<br/>It is Fleurmione week and I decided to write a story using some of the week prompts because I like to give myself more work. So you benefit from it!</p><p>First chapter is based on the First Day prompt “A Crush is Revealed”</p><p>Fencing terms and rules are used to my best abilities and what I believe is understandable for the general population of non sport nerds.</p><p>bout - it's the fight<br/>strip - is the corridor they use to fight<br/>foil - type of sword<br/>epée - type of sword<br/>right-of-way - it's how they determine who has the point when both touch each other body (don't stress over the rules of this)<br/>En garde! Prêts? Allez! - it's how the referee allows the fencers to go at each other in a bout.<br/>Team fights - each nation team is made of three fencers (all same sword, never a mix), and they face each person of the other team.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>First, it was a thought in the back of her head, <em> 'You seem familiar </em>.' Right after, there was a quiet, almost devilish comment from a team mate, "The British moved beyond the first round." What was the importance of it, Fleur couldn't grasp in the middle of avoiding contact with the tip of a blade.</p><p> </p><p>"En garde! Prêts? Allez!" </p><p>Attack. Dodge. Parry.</p><p>Attack. Parry. Attack.</p><p>Dodge. Parry. Attack. Attack. Parry.</p><p>Scream.</p><p>Move for the next bout.</p><p> </p><p>Quick and meticulous. A secular sport. A national pride. She’s been doing this for so long that some competitors are old friends telling you ‘what’s going on’ over a quick stabbing. That's why the information needs to hit the brain a third time, with the strength of the Paris-Lyon train.</p><p> </p><p><em> "I haven't seen her in years." </em> Delacour finally whispers to her captain as both stare at the neighbor strip. The Ukrainians were getting very close to hitting the points necessary to advance, but one tiny British was dodging for her life.</p><p> </p><p>Fleur had recognized the fencer by her hair and nose when the other was arranging her helmet before the bout. It took her a few seconds of far away staring, as the years have changed the British features just slightly for her to doubt herself but the woman was one of those faces that Fleur lost track of when she made the jump from Junior to Senior. Gonne to other life adventures, taken far away in a time that it was easier to see people in bouts than paying for the long distance calls between countries.</p><p> </p><p>She's still as fast as Fleur remembers though.</p><p> </p><p>The Ukranian was getting distracted by the amount of touch without points they were getting. The British succeeded in taking their right of way, meticulously stealing each point at a time.</p><p> </p><p>"It's sad that she isn't the last in the team round. They could reach semifinals"</p><p> </p><p>"And lose to us?"</p><p> </p><p>The captain answers by smiling mischievously and letting Delacour know she would use this break to go to the washroom. Experience tells the French shouldn’t be here staring at the competition, but nevertheless she is. The memories about this girl, now a woman, are banging at a door in her brain, trying to get out, but there are so many doors it could be coming from.</p><p> </p><p>Fleur remembers bits and pieces about her. She got into fencing because her best friend really liked it and walking around with a sword could look threatening. Oh. She started as an Epée fencer, that’s why Fleur started talking to her. To convince it didn’t really suit the British at all. Foil worked for her, bias aside. There was a bit of memory about wanting to work for the government and with underprivileged kids?</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Did you do what you wanted to do, old friend?” </em> Fleur was frustrated that she could remember conversations and not the woman’s name. She could ask an organizer but that would be embarrassing and she refused to have a smartphone. So, she waits.</p><p> </p><p>The British finally screamed. She got the last point of her bout, giving some breathing room to her next team mate. Fleur is hoping she will turn her back to her, see at least the last name of the person she’s been obsessing over in the last three minutes. The irony of the teenager's behaviour on her thirty two year old self is shelved under ‘I could control but I give no fucks.’</p><p> </p><p>However, her plan is parried when instead of leaving the strip and moving towards their chairs, the British takes her helmet off, talks with the coach and turns towards Fleur. </p><p> </p><p>None of them had planned this stare down. None of them were expecting to find each other so quickly and intensely. Fleur thought about turning her head, pretending this never happened and moving on with her life, but the other fencer’s eyes were unblinking. A deer caught in the head light figuring out what kind of reaction she should have.</p><p> </p><p>En garde.</p><p> </p><p>Delacour offered her a nod. It was only fair. She had watched her whole bout and appreciated how smart of a fencer she is, even with dubious motives. The British finally blinked and accepted the gesture by nodding back, letting her shoulders drop together with the adrenaline of sparring.</p><p> </p><p>Prêts?</p><p> </p><p>Fleur was never that good at being social. She knew how to be, she just wasn’t good at starting it herself. Came out forced, unfriendly. It’s the sad habit of knowing people will come to you and bouncing off of them. But this person’s gravity was strong. Curiosity pulling mental threads, remembering little things, that she wasn’t even sure that belonged to this person. It just felt right. A little like fate.</p><p> </p><p>Which also felt childish to admit to herself. Bill would never let her live down if she ever disclosed this line of thought. She will go with ‘I was sure I knew her, so why not say hi? Is that a crime?’ when asked why she was waving to someone in the middle of their competition.</p><p> </p><p>Allez!</p><p> </p><p>In a fast lunge, the British held a laugh and parried the wave with a wink. It was so fast that Fleur only realized she had lost the point when she read the name in the back of the other uniform.</p><p> </p><p>GRANGER</p><p> </p><p>The train got to the station and the door inside her mind had finally opened.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione Granger. Old acquaintance and banter connoisseur. First crush.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is based on the prompt "Dancing."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I grabbed the idea of tempo and rhythm from Fencing and ran wild with it.</p><p>Some fencing context for ya:<br/>A solo fight ends when someone hits 15 points or they finish three times of five minutes each. Whatever happens first.</p><p>The only thing I own here is sass and a geek soul for sports.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fleur doesn’t see Hermione again that day. With team France advancing to the semifinals and eventually reaching third place - damn those Ukranians - the British athletes had long left the arena when she was free to look for them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What would she say if she did cross paths with Granger? "Hi, remember me? We used to bicker fifteen years ago in between trying to smack each other with swords. I also had this big gay massive crush on you." Fleur wasn't even sure that this sudden urge of reconnection was a good idea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The small voice in her head - sometimes sounding like Bill, others Gabrielle - kept reminding her that a week ago she was complaining of being bored with her routine. Morning training, work, evening training, home, eat, sleep, start again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've always offered you a sabbatical. It's not my fault you're a workaholic" Bill swore their startup would be fine, and maybe it really would, but Fleur needed work to do Fencing and Fencing to do work. Her life was organized to a dot for complete optimization. Maybe in two years, when she gets another Olympic chance and enough clout to sell their security software Fleur could feed these 'boredom' urges. Not now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she brushes thoughts of Hermione Granger aside. Only to be facing her in the solo event.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because what is life if not a joke persevering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s a defensive fencer, bring her onto attack and then move forward. You’re not going to win by forcing your way like always.” Maxime told her as she stretched. Fleur knew how Granger fenced, it was the same since they were teenagers. Smart playing was Hermione’s strength - in everything. Wait, measure your opponent, attack on weak spots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only that now Fleur is older, experienced and in the top ten of European Foil fencers. She can deal with a lower seeded person, no matter how impressive they are. With mask and foil in hand she walked to the strip where Granger was waiting. The French observed her opponent, relaxed shoulders, an easy smile on her face. If you had to guess only by their demeanor you would be certain this was an exhibition match and not the European Championship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they test their sensors and shake their hands Hermione whispers to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see you got tired of looking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just needed to come show you how it’s done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Does she remember me?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both mask themselves with smirks on their faces, because of course the first words they share after years would be a cheesy banther. It suited them. The same way it suited Delacour to go for the attack as soon as the referee enunciated the e of ‘allez’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger shook her head and rolled her shoulder. ‘Same habits’ Fleur thought to herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Allez!” Point. Point. Point. Point. Point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione was barely reacting. Her parries without intention or attack, sometimes changing the rhythm of Fleur lunges here and there. The French wondered if the other girl got hurt in some way, or maybe the team event was a fluke. No, it couldn’t be. Just don’t leave Granger the time to react or get used to you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The referee signalled one more shot at point before the first three minutes ran out. Fleur shook her left wrist and moved forward on the Allez.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Granger” The referee gestured to the opposite side where the British fencer did a small cheer of victory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Would we still be friends today?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘What just happened?’ They left the strip for the minute break, Maxime chewing her ears off to pay attention, but Fleur could only notice the opponent and her fairly young coach snapping their fingers while talking in low voices.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back to finish what she started, Fleur mentally prepared herself to attack swiftly. Lunge, hand flick, step back, lunge again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Granger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time the British did not cheer in victory, only positioned herself to go again. Fleur did a quick turnaround and got herself ready. ‘She moved when I was changing the weight on my feet. Break the rhythm this time’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Half lunge, step back, parry, lunge. “Point. Granger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘This is getting ridiculous.’ Fleur cracked her left wrist instead of only shaking it. She needed to get her head in the game again. She was going to let Granger attack first this time and see what happens. Invert the game.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione half stepped forward and back, enticing a reaction, Fleur parried her blade out of the way and waited. As expected the British went on the attack, finally making this a proper fencing match.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur defended and moved backwards, attacking when she believed to have an entrance. The quick flick of their wrists ended when the beep went off and helmets lightened up together, making the referee check the video to decide whose point it was. Delacour raised her mask to breathe while Granger walked to the end of the strip and back, snapping her left hand fingers in a specific rhythm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had a memory of a younger version of the Brit doing this but she couldn't remember why. Did she move at a specific pattern? Fleur recorded the timing in her mind, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Point. Granger."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time the British cheered again with a pumped wrist. Fleur couldn’t help herself but feel proud at the same time she was on her way of losing positions in the ranking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘How deep is this infatuation of a memory?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went at it again, this time Fleur counting the time she saw Hermione doing in her head. One, lunge, two, step back, three, attack, four...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Granger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She got her </span>
  <em>
    <span>again </span>
  </em>
  <span>in between feet changes. A memory. Her answer for winning this was in the past, she was sure of it. The snapping of the fingers, Hermione’s voice following the rhythm of the song. Dancing a waltz on their uniforms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A waltz! That was it. Hermione used to find people’s patterns and associate with music, Fleur’s was a waltz! Only issue is that she had no fucking clue how to dance one. Why did she ignore the music classes when she was younger? Why? Think memory, think. If you can remember cute moments, remember the important ones!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Must I learn the waltz to go against you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course not, you stubborn French. Just Oh So Quiet.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘The Bjork song? How does it go?’ Fleur stared at the British, ready to go again and clearly happy of having the momentum of the fight. ‘If this is what I need to do, I’ll do it.’ So the French started singing to herself, hoping that the mask would not let anyone hear what she was doing. There is a limit of ridiculousness she can handle since the stare during team events.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s oh so quiet” The slow and quiet beginning of the song played in her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Allez!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s oh so still” Fleur slowed down at the end of the phrase which made Hermione miss her lunge, giving the French the upper hand. “You’re all alone.” Fleur stepped back and added two beats to the middle by lunging and attacking faster, only for Hermione to parry in a desperate manner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And so peaceful until…” The chorus metals blasted in her head as she kept forcing Hermione to step back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Delacour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You fall in love, zing, boom!” Fleur turned in a makeshift dance move, ready for more. If Hermione heard her she didn’t care, the trumpets were playing and she was going to win this bout!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sky up above. Zing! Boom!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Delacour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is caving in. Wow! Bam!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Granger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You've never been so nuts about a girl</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Point. Point. Delacour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You want to laugh, you want to cry</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Point. Granger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You cross your heart and hope to die.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Delacour.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'til it's over and then</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's nice and quiet</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Point.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But soon again</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Point. Delacour is the winner of this bout.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Starts another big riot</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they come together in the middle for the last hand shake Hermione congratulated her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy you came back. It was oh, so quiet there.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To whom also reads "Do It Off The Ice" you know how I like to geek over music sometimes, so this was a lot of fun :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prompt is Jealousy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fleur Isabelle Delacour had no clue how she ended up "dueling" with a plastic sword while wearing a party dress in the middle of a farm in England. If her life had a writer she wanted words with them, because this is ridiculous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Woosh</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Get your head in the game Delacour." Granger shouted, which caused her drunk self to widen her stance to keep her from falling into the mud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I clearly am. Didn't you see me avoiding that? Or you're just really bad at fenciiiiiiing. OW!" Hermione hit her left arm with the plastic sword, which Fleur is sure it’s from the Hercules movie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"3x0. Who’s bad here huh Frenchie."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shhhhhhh." Delacour was really trying to think here, but the cute girl is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so loud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How did she get here? Oh, yeah, fucking Bill.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill with the weeding. His sister's wedding. Fuck, if she knew, she would have never set foot in this god forsaken island.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s going to be fine. Ma is going to think that we’re somewhat of a couple even if I deny, she’ll have some questions, and then you’re free to eat and drink as much as you want.” Bill reassured her so many times during the last few months and Fleur was fine with it, she had never met the family properly, so she was excited to finally figure out how one of her favourite people in the world was raised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Driving into the small town everything looked so idyllic. Fleur was looking forward to the weekend break from work and training. Such innocence on her part.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The first five minutes are gonna run out!” A drunk Ginny cheered from the side of the makeshift arena created with a lawn mower. She was sitting on a beach chair decorated as a throne with balloons and a cardboard crown to go with it. A group of the party goers had gathered around the bachelorette to watch the two drunk weirdos playing pirates.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur jumped to the side avoiding Hermione and hit the plastic sword to her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ow! Not fair!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything is fair in a real sword fight! You’d be dead right now, 5x0 Fleur!” Hermione turned to the ‘queen’ as if asking for a resolution. Playing her part as an Oscar nominee, Ginny whispered something in the ear of a blonde woman wearing a flowy blue dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The crowned queen for the night says she will allow Hermione’s head to stay, but she needs to perform a handstand after taking a shot of tequila in order to stay in the duel.” The ‘retainer’ said with an airy voice, adding a giggle to punctuate the absurdist situation they are right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione groaned but moved towards the drink table. Instead of using a shot glass she took a gulp straight from the spirit bottle and brought it back, leaving it on Ginny’s lap. “Just because I love you Gin’. Could you hold this for me beautiful?” On a swift motion she threw her plastic sword towards Fleur, who grabbed it in the middle of a gay panic. She could pretend she wasn’t trying to stare at the shirt falling down when Hermione did the handstand, but for what?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>the fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>do you know Hermione Granger?!” Bill just laughed while being accosted on the second floor of the Burrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mention it to you? She studied with my younger brother, Ronald.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The one that came to visit a few years back, asked me out and then ran away?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that idiot.” Bill opened a door to a room shoving Fleur inside while following behind and closing it behind him. “You spent four months, </span>
  <em>
    <span>four</span>
  </em>
  <span>, talking about how you’ve been seeing this fencer and couldn’t get more than two words with her. I only realized it was Hermione when I saw you stalking her at work three weeks ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Le gasp! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I saw you going on instagram, I know what you did miss ‘Social media is the devil reincarnate’. So, you were already coming so I did some scouting for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione did a perfect handstand for someone who probably had their yearly intake of alcohol in one night. When she came down, the whole party clapped and whistled which prompted a bow and wave coming from Granger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I allowed to get back on the horse with mademoiselle?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If that was a faux pas or another addition to the list of awkward interactions Hermione had sent Fleur’s way tonight, she wasn’t sure. The floor, her mind and the situation were </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>muddy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucky for her, Ginevra Weasley was also part of the athlete community, by being a midfielder at Arsenal, so honestly, everyone here is just a big ol’ gay. Funny that she is marrying Harry. But nevertheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t we just make it a golden point or something? In honor of tonight’s majesty.” Fleur tried to cater towards the enabler of this duel sipping her water and being a majestic bride to be. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the youngest Weasley. When Bill and her had just arrived Ginny was polite, but somewhat cold, measuring. Only when Hermione started talking to Fleur during dinner that her demeanor changed. Warm, but almost...evil.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For complaint you also get a shot Mademoiselle Delacour.” Ginevra made the effort to butcher the french as much as possible. Fleur grabbed a glass of water and drank while making eye contact. The blonde friend laughed when the redhead huffed and puffed into her chair, caught into her own game.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione swinged her plastic sword, waiting. Her puffy shirt would need a dry cleaner - if it was possible to salvage that one. But cool. Oh, she looked cool.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur should have got a bigger water glass when she had the chance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went at it again, clashing their silly plastic swords, throwing mud around and receiving bets from the party goers. One thing Fleur was sure, that years of footwork were saving her ass right now. Her body was moving out of a supernatural muscle memory that will ask for its carnal debt in the morning. Sunglasses and muscle relaxants for the wedding ceremony, got it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are we doing this again?” Fleur asked Hermione once she managed to lock her sword on a down motion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because,” Hermione pushed her and stepped back to get some space between them again. “You think you’re great shit and someone needed to put you in your place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Hermione. How are you?” Delacour approached her cautiously as one approaches a cat they want to befriend. Ginny’s party had started an hour ago and she only managed to gather the liquid courage to come say hi now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello Fleur. I’m good, trying to relax before the long stress tomorrow.” She shook the glass with whisky in it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought that the stress was only for the bride and groom?” Granger took a big gulp of her drink and did a so-so gesture with her hands. “It’s nice talking to you like this. Outside of competition I mean. It’s nice just talking to you. No work involved. You look great.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur shoved her drink onto her mouth to stop talking. Her drinking buddy didn’t say anything right away, only served herself another whisky and then leaned on the drink balcony overseeing the backyard party. Ginny started opening some random presents at a corner of the party, the cheers working as a filler to their lack of conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The French woman felt as if she ate a pebble that is now dancing inside her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We never really talked much out of competitions though.” Hermione only took a sip of her drink this time. “Even when we were younger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pretending she wasn’t getting a high out of confirming Hermione does remember her and their friendship, was futile. However, the tone in the woman’s voice bore a bit of defeat. An undertone of disappointment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I always looked forward to seeing you. Even if it was to whoop your ass.” She laughed. Hermione gave her an eye-roll a small smirk only. Tough crowd tonight apparently. Fleur prepared herself to make another silly comment when Granger had something to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long have you known Bill?” Weird question but not completely out of the range of possibility. Fleur did a good crack of her left wrist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A little more than ten. We met when we were working at the IT department of a bank but then we’ve been partners for five years now.” Again, Hermione stayed quiet, sipping her drink.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“HEY, SWORD LADIES!” Ginny shouted from the middle of boxes and her friends. She held two long plastic swords, one brown and one pink. “Wanna give us a demonstration?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I am good at what I do.” Delacour lunged forward just like she saw once in that Witcher show, parrying Hermione’s sword down and “slashing” her sword into Hermione’s abdomen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“3x2 to Granger!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other fencer rolled her shoulders and stretched after getting hit in the stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you’re also good at what you do. So I don’t get it. What did I do?” Hermione went at her so fast that Fleur’s inebriated body couldn’t avoid her with the right momentum, slipping and falling back first in the mud. The tip of the plastic sword tapped her cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“4x2 Granger! Match point!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Isn’t that only for tennis?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Volleyball also uses it I think.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You guys serious right now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione offered her hand to help Fleur up, who accepted it. Who needs dignity when you’re drunk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one that had a boyfriend after flirting with me at every competition for months!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur fell on the mud again, but this time because she couldn’t stop cackling. A boyfriend! The gayest Delacour to ever gay with a boyfriend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our queen says that if the combatant doesn’t get up, victory will be declared to her opponent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead! I can’t…” Tears are rolling down her eyes, she can’t stop laughing. Fleur is so drunk. “Let her have the win.” She gestured to Hermione, who yanked her up from the mud with a murderous intent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can win fair and square, I don’t need your pity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not pity. You just clearly need a win to get it out of your system.” Some in the crowd gasped, others shouted MAKE OUT!’, but the main consensus was a good and long </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uhhhhhhhh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t win so you’re just trying to not make it a big deal.” Hermione said, puffing her chest. This Bachelorette party will be remembered till the end of time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur cleaned the tears from her face and looked at her ‘opponent’. She just had a fantastical, perfect, amazingly evil idea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can win this very easily if I wanted to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah? So do it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Fleur Delacour tackled Hermione Granger onto the mud.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just when you thought I was a serious writer!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is a chapter for the fourth day of the Fleurmione week: Drinking Games (I used this topic very freely, sorry)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote four different versions of this chapter because I couldn't stop editing things. So I'm posting it before I decide to edit again.</p><p>No beta, we post like sleep deprived millennials.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fleur runs into Hermione in the kitchen, holding a steaming cup of tea and trying to read a book.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trying because in the two minutes that it took for the French to finally decide to enter the room, Hermione’s eyes were static and seemed closer to observing the void than organized letters. Her hair was still half wet after the mud cleansing shower, but it was tied the same way she wears it on competitions. Something about the familiarity of it made Fleur break the silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t sleep?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was expecting Hermione to jump or react in some way after getting her void talk interrupted but she only turned to Fleur and gave her a weak smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I’m still a little drunk, so things get dizzy. It’s my own fault really.” She put her book to the side and held her tea with two hands, focusing on the void again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delacour should just grab the Gatorade she came for and go back to bed. The night had already brought her misfortunes enough and she shouldn’t try her luck once again. Still, she wants to say goodnight, check if Hermione’s fine, make sure she drank enough water to deal with Molly tomorrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But what are they to each other?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They are bantering colleagues that sometimes flirt, however never sat down for a conversation. They observe each other, hoping to meet but never walking towards the middle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They never went through the process of caring to be able to care for each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur wants to care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you wanna play a game?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Another one?” There was no bite in Hermione’s tone, but her eyes did shine with the sound of a competition. Fleur told her to wait as she went around the kitchen, looking for what she needed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is what me and my sister call, sobering game.” Fleur put on the table a row of shot glasses. She filled half of them with a blue gatorade, the others with water. “This was invented a few years back, and we haven’t done that much since we became two boring working adults. So, it’s nice to have a chance to play it again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s hands left her tea for the cords of her hoodie. The eyes that were unfocused inside the void suddenly sharp and attentive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The game works like truth or dare. If you complete the task you drink one, if not, the other person drinks it.” Fleur takes a pill from her sweatpant’s pocket and positions at the end of the row of glasses. “The goal is to get to the ibuprofen first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur got comfortable on the chair opposite to Hermione, readjusting her sleeping shirt to get back on top of her shoulder. It was Summer, but the Weasley’s house always seemed to run a little cold when there were less than four people in a room. As if the weird house structure took into account human heat instead of modern systems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, I’m supposed to aim for the opponent to have a major headache in the morning?” Granger flashed her a mischievous smile that was more endearing than threatening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In a way. Nothing stops you from grabbing a glass of water to drink during the game. Me and Gabi just thought it was easier to be open with each other like this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione gave pause and took a deep breath. Fleur remembers that habit. How could she not? It meant the British was putting her guard up, ready to attack before getting hurt. They trained once with Granger in that state. Delacour then learned a lesson for the rest of her life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t attack when someone’s hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who starts?” The solemn voice travels around the Burrow kitchen, only sharing sound waves with the ticking clock on top of the fridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you start?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione looked at her as if a second head had grown while Fleur was talking. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are known</span>
  </em>
  <span> for setting the rhythm of things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only when we’re not waltzing. That one I usually let you lead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger shook her head with a scoff, uncomfortable with the attention. “Okay. Truth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excited for tomorrow’s wedding?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I actually am. Besides the clear stress of helping organize things.” She tried to hide a shy smile turning towards the table. “My best friend found someone that he wants to spend the rest of his life with. How amazing is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You tell me.” Fleur pushed a shot glass in Hermione’s direction, who took it with a sparkle in her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“People marry for many reasons, but Harry and Ginny, it’s real love. The probabilities of someone finding their perfect person are like... winning the lottery! Both need to have a mutual attraction, like to spend time together, and the hardest of it all, want to make it work. It's just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave Fleur a look of ‘you know?’ - heavy with hope and awe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well...” Hermione went back to her guarded expression. “Truth or dare?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dare.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Afraid of something Delacour?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only of the effect you have on me.” Granger scoffed and smiled this time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without the drunk haze Fleur couldn’t stop thinking about how the woman in front of her is at the same time, exactly the person she remembered, however completely different. It’s the duality of seeing them as competitors and then living their life. Hermione is flexible during fencing, adjusting to the other person, silently winning. In life she is solid, making herself known by occupying space that she rightfully owns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the flirting, Hermione left the kitchen towards the living room. A couple minutes after she came back holding a new pair of fencing gloves and a marker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dare you to sign these.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's not that Fleur wasn't used to small moments of people asking for a picture or a signature. They were fans that liked when she won, the signature is a souvenir of an event. Signing these gloves, however, felt extremely intimate. Two people recognizing each other's value.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She signed the gloves in silence and gave them back to Hermione who thanked her with a nod, wrapping the gloves with great zeal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can drink your ‘shot’ now.” Granger laughed, a little subdued, still taking her time to thread into friendly waters. “Not going to ask what the gloves are for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need you to say ‘truth’ first.” Without thinking too much, Fleur held the sleeve of the golden yellow sweater, keeping Hermione in place by her. The other woman eye-rolled but Fleur could see a little smile curve forming on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if I don’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll dare you to tell me what they are for.” Fleur felt cold skin touching her wrist, fingers tracing upwards on her palm. The sudden contact of Hermione’s fingers with her hand made her breathe a little too fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Was that a gasp?” Granger’s voice went to a lower register but two octaves up in</span>
  <span> ‘little shit talk.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and answer me.” Fleur did not let go of the hand and Hermione noticed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re doing a raffle for the fencing program me and Harry teach. I’m signing some stuff and I was going to ask you next competition, but you’re here. So.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were going to use the gloves as an excuse to talk to me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was that or wait for you to grow some balls and god knows when that would be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I was dating Bill!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger opened and closed her mouth like a fish, without knowing what to say, while Fleur grinned like a piece of shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a light summer breeze coming into the kitchen through a forgotten open window. It made the escaping hair strands from Hermione’s hair dance to its slow tune, proving to Fleur that time was indeed passing, that this was real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione gave pause and took a deep breath. Fleur would remember that habit. It meant the British was putting her guard down, ready to be embraced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Truth or Dare?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur laughed as she held Granger in her arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Truth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delacour then learned another lesson for the rest of her life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You always kiss Hermione when she asks.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, that's it darlings! Hope you enjoyed the ride &lt;3</p><p>I have some ideas for other two "epilogues" that will somewhat follow other prompts of the fleurmione week, but work suddenly caught up and I have thousands of deadlines, so they will take a while. For now I'll leave the work as completed.</p><p>Thank you for following these fencing gays. I'm off to dealing with my anxiety prone figure skating ones now, they were fighting last time I left them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In very, VERY technical terms this fits in the "there's only one bed" day of the fleurmione week.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here I am again cause I couldn't stop thinking about these two nerds so I wrote something quick on my phone.</p><p>Let me know if there's any weird auto corrector happening.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The fencing bag had barely touched the ground when her phone rang. Hermione put it on speaker and left the smartphone on the side table by the entrance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hi darling. Just taking off my shoes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're going to Budapest and Milan this year right?" Fleur's voice echoed in the small hallway of Granger's flat. With her sneakers finally off, she walked inside holding the phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, I am. Why?" Her girlfriend didn't answer right away, only the sound of her mechanical keyboard typing frantically and a few mouse clicks. "You're calculating it again." The typing died.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Or maybe I'm just trying to find plane tickets." Hermione laughed as she poured a glass of orange juice and grabbed a banana from a bowl on top of her dinner table. God bless that bad liar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fleur, it doesn't matter how many options you calculate on your program, I can't qualify for the Olympics right now. There's no possible way to climb the ranks in eight months when I don't compete that much."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A girl can dream okay? Can you imagine how cool would it be if we faced each other at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Olympics</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Couple goals right there."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione felt her face warm up. It's been a couple - small inside laugh - of months and she still can't stop blushing like a teenager when someone refers to her and Fleur as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>couple.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It felt silly, great, dreamy, but mostly silly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she quips the best way she can.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're really trying to cross all those boxes of the lesbian bingo aren't you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's a prize at the dyke fair I want. What time does your flight land tomorrow?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"At eight." Hermione threw the banana peel out and wobbled to her sofa, feeling the night training session plus a long day of walking take into effect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know it's past your usual dinner time but do you want to go out? There's a place a block from my apartment, not a lot of walking, you can just relax after the week you had."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once again Granger felt silly. Silly in love, scratch that, too soon. Infatuated with this relationship and its Heathrow-De Gaulle flights, quick stolen moments when their competitions align, knowing each other's schedules by heart like two respectful workaholics.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the real deal. It brings a cold shiver to her spine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I want nothing more than to spend time with you." Fleur giggled and swirled in her chair on the other side of the canal. "We are still training Saturday morning though."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"First let's see what time we go to sleep." The French laughed in a lower register, which shouldn't make Hermione roll her eyes that hard, but it did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You have a competition next week and honestly your bed sucks."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sacré bleu! How zare you offend Claudiá like ziz?!" Hermione smiled, it's really hard to be serious with Delacour. She knows it's because of her own habit of steering towards a seriousness approach to things. It comes with working with the government. Fleur knows, and it's the perception of the little things, in life and fencing that makes her amazing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile got bigger and Granger's eyes almost closed with the thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know you like it though, but I prefer to not sleep on bricks."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Pillow princess."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's not what I saw last time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fleur now seemed to choke on something but regained her composure quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know. One day, there will be only one bed between us and then, we'll have this talk again. We'll see who comes out on top."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So you do remember last time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione held her giggles while she heard Fleur cursing and producing pterodactyl noises - it could be French also - on the other side of the line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're a cruel, cruel woman Granger." Fleur wheezes out. "And I miss you a lot. Can't wait to see you tomorrow."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I miss you too. And Fleur?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't wait till there's only one bed."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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